


When Shadows Fill Our Days

by diemarysues



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Could Be Canon, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, tolkiensecretartexchange
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 00:48:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4080175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diemarysues/pseuds/diemarysues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the tolkien secret art exchange, for linkingal over on tumblr.</p><p>Elrond and Thranduil speak after the War of the Last Alliance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Shadows Fill Our Days

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written this pairing before, or even much of these two characters actually. I hope I didn't butcher either of them.

Elrond’s armour had been cleaned and carefully set aside. His injuries were already seen to and he stood by the cot clad only in soft breeches and linen bandages. This had been Gil-galad’s tent which, in the absence of spouse or children, had been given to his herald. It was not particularly lavish but it was big – too big for just one person.

“Try to lift your arm,” he said.

Thranduil made no sound as he obeyed though Elrond could see how much the action pained him. He would not have made the request if it wasn’t necessary; Thranduil’s pauldron on that side had buckled and he could not remove it on his own. Elrond suspected that there was an actual underlying injury instead of just compression due to the buckling, but that would have to wait.

He fought the sigh that threatened to slip past, fingers stilling for a moment before he shifted his grip. Looked up into blue eyes. “This will not be gentle,” he warned.

A smile flickered across Thranduil’s face. “Do not be gentle.” He drew in a breath and held it.

Elrond tried to be quick, but the damage done had been significant. It might have been wiser to seek the advice of one of the armourers – preferably an Elf as they would be more familiar with the make compared to a Man – but Thranduil had been clear in his displeasure of such a decision. He’d not been clear about _why_ the displeasure was there, but Elrond had come to accept that as part of Thranduil’s character.

He and Thranduil breathed as one when the final piece of twisted metal was removed. “You will need to fashion new armour, I think.”

“I hope it will not be needed so soon.”

Elrond bowed his head. He had laid _Aeglos_ on Gil-galad’s breast not hours earlier. Thranduil had done much the same with Oropher’s sword. The threat of Sauron had been ended but the cost had been great. Wars were never as glorious as tales and songs depicted. He felt tired beyond simple exhaustion, hurt beyond the injuries sustained.

“Do not hide your face,” Thranduil said quietly, curling his fingers below Elrond’s chin. “It brings me comfort.”

“I will give you all the comfort you desire.”

“You always have.” He released his gentle hold on Elrond’s chin, which was a brief disappointment until he opened his arms (the movements of his left arm more stilted than the right). “And I would make the same offer.”

Elrond laughed a little and gladly stepped into Thranduil’s embrace. He hid his face in Thranduil’s neck, catching the scent of sweat and blood. Beyond that was sunlight and bubbling brooks and green leaves, comforts that reminded Elrond of home and happiness; _Thranduil_ reminded Elrond of home and happiness. 

He slipped his arms around Thranduil’s waist as a long-fingered hand smoothed down his spine. He did not make mention of the shakiness of Thranduil’s movements and breaths, just as the other Elf made no mention of the damp prickle of tears hidden against his neck.

Thranduil’s fingertips crawled over each ridge of Elrond’s spine. The contact kept him from slumping to the ground and weeping just as surely as it stopped him reaching towards the sky and cursing. This was not the first battle he had been in nor was it the first time he had lost someone close to him. The pain was there all the same, lessened only marginally by the barely-there pressure of lips against the top of his head.

With Gil-galad’s passing, the kingship of the Noldor was ended in Middle-earth. Elrond had no claim to that title and did not want to claim it; he was a commander of Elves and would be nothing more. Soon the time would come when he could return to Imladris; his heart gladdened at the thought.

But Thranduil did not have a similar choice. He would soon be king of Eryn Galen, taking the place of his father Oropher. In all their past discussions he had never expressed a preference for the throne one way or another but Elrond felt that Thranduil was being thrust into too much responsibility too soon. He wished he could somehow offer his services, but what could he offer that was more than what they were doing now?

“When will you leave?”

Elrond lifted his head but did not withdraw, instead resting his cheek on Thranduil’s shoulder. “When we are able to. Most will follow Amroth to Lórien; I and others will make our way to Imladris from there.” He stared at Thranduil’s neck where there was a ragged nick across his throat. A blow that could have been fatal. “And you? Will you travel with us, for a while?”

“My fath –” He saw Thranduil swallow. “My people will appreciate the company.” He glanced down at Elrond and said, “As will I.”

“I’m glad you are here,” he replied. “With me.” There was deep friendship between them and love as well. Elrond did not know when it had grown so great that he _needed_ Thranduil’s presence now here in this tent, in the aftermath of a long and bloody war. He had dropped all his control and Thranduil had let down all his barriers, all weaknesses only shown to each other, and in so doing they gained the strength to breathe, to face others, to _live_.

Thranduil’s hands were cool against the bare skin of his shoulders; Elrond allowed Thranduil to push him away because he knew it was only enough so that Thranduil could lean down and touch their foreheads together. Their noses brushed and Elrond’s exhale shuddered out of him. 

“Much of my strength is from you.” Thranduil’s voice was as quiet as a breath. “Without it I would cast aside Greenwood’s crown.”

“You would not. Do you recall what you told me?” 

“I have told you many things.”

“And I have appreciated much of your counsel.”

“Whether you listen is another thing altogether.”

Elrond snorted. He’d clearly listened on that particular occasion, else he’d not bring it up now. He didn’t point this out. “You told me that I would be able to achieve all I put my mind to. You told me that wherever I went, there would be people who followed.”

“When you went to establish Imladris. I remember.”

Elrond could also remember, in particular the sparkle of blue eyes and the shine of gold hair beneath the sun. They had held hands by the edge of a pond, dangling their feet in the cool water, and it remained one of the best moments of his life. Thranduil’s opinion had been – and was – one that Elrond oft sought out.

“Now I will tell you the same thing.” He nudged his nose against Thranduil’s. “If I was able to follow your advice, you can too.”

Thranduil straightened, frowning down at Elrond. “I am not you.” This was not said with malice but his words were gentled all the same when his hands slid down Elrond’s arms to cup his elbows. “I am not.”

“You are _greater_.”

“I am not. And I certainly will not be as great a King as my father – was.”

“You do not have to be. You do not have to compare.” Oropher had commanded respect, but Elrond thought that Thranduil would inspire it. “You will be your own King, with your own strengths and faults. You must only believe it.” He was fondly annoyed when Thranduil scoffed. “Have I ever lied to you?”

“Many times.”

That… was true. Not that he’d admit as much. “I am not lying to you _now_.”

“Hmph.” 

It was evident that Thranduil still did not agree, but it would take more than a few words to sway his fears. Elrond would just have to encourage him; he was more than willing to. War was behind them – and hopefully they would not have to face another again – and now was the time to heal and grow strong again. They would survive together. 

A tap to his nose brought Elrond from his thoughts. 

“Will you sleep with me?” his love asked. “It will soothe us both, I think.”

It would. “The cot is small.” He smiled. “We will have to lie close in order to share.”

Thranduil returned his smile and caressed his cheek. “That is never a hardship.” He tipped Elrond’s chin up, and leaned down.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be a second chapter with smut (and the rating will be modified accordingly), but it will have to wait for when life calms down. Thanks for reading!


End file.
